Chapter 150 – This Is My Answer.
“How did you know my face?”
Al-Baghdadi was curious.
They hadn’t even met, and there shouldn’t have been any information about each other—so how could he possibly know what he looked like?
‘Not just Abubakar—no one, absolutely no one, was ever allowed to take my photo.’
He waited, extremely curious, but the answer he got was absurd.
“Just because.”
“What?”
“I can just know.”
If he were his younger self, he would’ve started shooting right then and there, but al-Baghdadi had patience.
“Looks like you’re trying to provoke me, but it’s useless. I don’t lack that level of experience—”
“Stop running your mouth and say what you actually want to say. I’ll give you a chance to talk.”
It was outrageously insolent, but he endured it anyway.
He was the leader of IS.
He wasn’t someone who would fall for the other side’s petty tricks.
“Impressive nerve. Acting that arrogant in front of this many people.”
“Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“The truth is, I answered your call because I have a proposal for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Al-Baghdadi spoke bluntly, without caring about the Players around him.
“Come under me. Devote yourself to IS and dedicate yourself to Allah. If you do, you won’t have to worry about the next Round. You won’t need to tremble in fear. The one and only God, Allah, will show you the way.”
“……”
Unlike Ryu Min, who showed no reaction, Victor—hidden inside the building and listening—had to clamp a hand over his mouth in shock.
‘W-what did I just hear? He told him to join IS?’
In other words, al-Baghdadi was offering to recruit Black Scythe.
“How about it? Offering your body to Allah and enjoying eternal life.”
“Not to Allah. To you. And a tiger doesn’t crawl under a cat, does it?”
“A tiger…? Do you really think you’re a vessel that big?”
“Maybe not. But one thing’s certain. The bastard who calls himself the leader of IS is a rat that’s worse than a cat. Anyone would think so when they see you cowering behind a stand-in.”
“Heh. I’ll give you this—your mouth is impressive.”
As if he couldn’t tolerate it anymore, al-Baghdadi’s brow furrowed.
“You truly have no intention of coming under me?”
“How many times do I have to say it? Words don’t get through to you? Then should I show you with actions?”
Ryu Min’s scythe flashed in an instant—and he severed Abubakar’s neck.
Thud—
The head of Boko Haram went to the afterlife in a heartbeat.
“This is my answer, you rat bastard.”
“So you never intended to use him as a hostage in the first place.”
As if the conversation was no longer worth anything, al-Baghdadi turned his body and spoke.
“Let’s see if your skill matches your mouth.”
As he stepped back into the crowd, Players moved forward as if to shield him.
“Kill him. Leave not a single scrap of flesh.”
The moment the order was given, hundreds charged at Ryu Min.
Watching the organization members rush in with weapons in hand, Ryu Min smiled behind his mask.
‘Just like I thought—you brought only Players.’
If they were ordinary organization members, he would’ve killed them without hesitation, but once he realized they were Players, he decided to hold back.
‘They’re basically all items. It’d be a waste to kill them too easily.’
The Players were lucky.
Because Ryu Min had decided to take it slow.
Hidden inside the building and watching, Victor kept clenching and unclenching his hands.
His palms were already soaked in sweat.
‘It’s finally starting. I’m the one getting nervous.’
He trusted Black Scythe’s ability, but you never knew.
A variable could appear.
‘Huh?’
But there was something strange.
Among the gathered organization members, not a single person held a gun.
They were all using old-fashioned outfits and weapons.
Victor’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him late.
‘D-don’t tell me they’re all Players?’
He wasn’t sure, but it looked like roughly five hundred people.
‘Were there really this many Players who devoted themselves to IS?’
A chill crawled over his skin.
At best, he could handle one or two—five hundred was unimaginable.
‘Will Black Scythe-nim be alright? They’re Players, not ordinary people.’
He could hear the clang-clang-clang of weapons colliding, but he couldn’t see because of the angle.
Was he really fighting properly?
Victor turned his head toward the Asian woman who seemed to be Black Scythe’s companion.
“What is your name? What’s your name.”
Yamtti understood the simple English and answered.
“Me? I’m Yamtti. My name is Yamtti.”
“Yamtti? Okay. Yamtti. Can Black Scythe-nim win? What do you think?”
“What are you saying? Haa…”
The conversation cut off immediately, and Yamtti sighed.
“Listen, Alchemist. I don’t understand you, but it’s frustrating, so I’m going to say what I need to say anyway. You look anxious. Trust Black Scythe-nim. There’s nothing we can do. All we can do is stay here and wait for the IS leader.”
“What? IS? You’re saying IS might win?”
Catching the word “IS,” Victor pressed, and Yamtti rattled on.
“Black Scythe-nim told us to wait because he said he’d have the IS leader delivered right to us. So don’t worry. Once we catch the IS leader, it’s over.”
She told him not to worry, but for some reason Victor’s face looked even darker than before.
Clang-clang-clang—!
Ka-kang— kang-kang!
All kinds of skills poured onto a single target.
No matter how high the level, it should be impossible to dodge skills raining down from every direction.
That’s what he thought.
Until he saw it with his own eyes.
‘He’s still holding out?’
Al-Baghdadi checked the time with astonished eyes.
Five minutes had passed.
Normally, he should’ve been dead by now.
But there wasn’t even a corpse—he was still fighting, lively as ever.
‘So he really isn’t Rank 1 for nothing?’
Al-Baghdadi had brought a force of five hundred out of eight hundred.
And they were all Players.
‘A Player should be fought by Players.’
Even if someone had to die, better an “expiration-date” Player than an ordinary soldier.
And he’d believed this would be enough to kill him.
At the time, he thought so.
But now his thoughts had changed.
‘Even bringing this many troops isn’t enough?’
He knew most of them were level 40, so the level gap was huge.
Even so, he never imagined that hundreds couldn’t even leave a single scratch on one man.
‘If I can’t have him, I intended to kill him… and even that isn’t easy.’
It was dangerous.
Letting that bastard live.
Even if he had to burn through every last Player, he had to tear him apart right here.
‘The one saving grace is that he seems to be struggling, too.’
Black Scythe was only defending with his scythe, not counterattacking at all.
He looked preoccupied with blocking and evading.
‘If time passes, the tide will turn. He’s human—his stamina can’t be infinite.’
But as the fight dragged on, nothing improved.
It was simply strange that no deaths were occurring.
Of course, even if it was 500 to 1, the number of people who could attack at once was limited.
‘But even so, he’s incredible. Dozens attack at the same time, and he blocks and slips away cleanly.’
With that level of skill, he really could dodge bullets.
A bullet-dodging Player becoming his subordinate?
It was impossible not to want him.
‘If he’d pledged loyalty to Allah, I was going to give him Abubakar’s position immediately… what a waste.’
He’d been talent that might’ve made even a White House terror attack possible, yet he could only be killed here.
‘What now? I have to kill him, but his skill isn’t easy.’
Watching Black Scythe still fighting, al-Baghdadi suddenly felt goosebumps all over his body.
Their eyes had met.
‘He has the spare attention to look at me?’
In the moment he was inwardly shocked—
Thud— thud-thud— thud!
He heard the sound of flesh tearing as weapons stabbed in.
Sure enough, Black Scythe was pierced like a skewer and died.
“We killed Black Scythe!”
The victorious Players roared in celebration.
Al-Baghdadi’s eyes widened as if they’d pop out.
The man who had defended so cleanly—dead from a single lapse?
‘Did he end up like that because he looked at me?’
Shock quickly turned into a smile.
Luckily, the nuisance that might’ve become a future threat had died.
“Heh-heh, so that’s Rank 1? Nothing special. What an idiot—dying because he let his attention slip.”
His face filled with mockery.
Then—
“Ugh!”
Someone grabbed the back of his neck.
Dragged by a powerful force, al-Baghdadi floated up into the air.
Kwa-chang—!
He smashed through a building window and crashed inside, clutching his waist and letting out a wail.
“Aaagh…”
It felt like someone had yanked him and thrown him into the building.
“Ugh… what the hell—”
In that moment—
Slip—
Al-Baghdadi’s face stiffened instantly when he saw a presence appearing out of thin air.
Right in front of him stood Black Scythe—the man who had supposedly died like a skewer.
“Black Scythe-nim!”
As Victor and Yamtti brightened, Ryu Min grinned.
“I told you, didn’t I? If you wait, they’ll deliver him.”
Ryu Min pointed at al-Baghdadi and ordered,
“Dominate him.”
Watching Black Scythe get stabbed dozens of times and spray blood, the Players grinned.
“We killed him. We finally killed an infidel.”
“We—we killed Black Scythe!”
Even before the world became like this, they had sworn loyalty to IS—and they were reborn as stronger warriors called Players.
They became Allah’s warriors, executing other infidels in God’s name.
And they had killed Black Scythe, IS’s greatest enemy.
Flowers of laughter bloomed across every face.
But only for a moment.
“Huh?”
In an instant, like a mirage, Black Scythe’s corpse vanished.
Without even realizing it had been a Doppelganger, they searched for the body with baffled expressions.
“What happened?”
“Did someone accidentally use Trace Erasure?”
“If you did, confess honestly!”
They were obsessed with finding the corpse.
When they should’ve been finding al-Baghdadi’s whereabouts instead.
But it made sense—everyone was fixated on Black Scythe and never saw al-Baghdadi get flown away.
Then, from somewhere, al-Baghdadi appeared.
“What’s all this commotion?”
“Ah, Leader.”
As the IS leader approached, the Players lowered their weapons and parted like a red sea.
“What is it that you’re all murmuring about?”
“A moment ago we eliminated Black Scythe, but for some reason the corpse disappeared.”
“So what if it did?”
“Pardon?”
“The corpse disappearing isn’t what matters. What matters is that you killed Black Scythe.”
Al-Baghdadi beamed and declared victory.
“You have eliminated the greatest obstacle to our organization. You—proud warriors of Allah!”
“Waaaah!”
“O Allah! Today as well, we have removed an obstacle! Praise us!”
“Thank you for always protecting us!”
“This brings us one step closer to paradise!”
Al-Baghdadi smiled benevolently as if telling them to rejoice as much as they wanted, then raised his hand to quiet the crowd.
“Now that Black Scythe is gone, all that remains is to carry out the great cause. But before that, we must redistribute items, so everyone is to place on the ground all equipment you are wearing and all items in your inventories. Every last one of them. Not a single thing missing!”
“Yes!”
The IS leader’s command was absolute.
If he said die, they died. If he said live, they lived. If he said hand it over, they handed it over.
He said he would collect and redistribute items for the terror they were preparing, which sounded reasonable.
So the Players placed everything down.
Not just the gear they wore, but every item scraped clean from their inventories.
Soon the yard became a sea of items.
With roughly five hundred people dropping only what they wore, more than three thousand items would pile up.
“Those who have placed their items down, move to the side!”
Once they were stripped bare, al-Baghdadi moved them to an adjacent clearing.
To make sure they couldn’t retrieve the items again.
Because—
“Well done. Now you must die.”
“Pardon?”
Because they had to die by Black Scythe’s hand.
While al-Baghdadi grinned, a sound came from somewhere.
Kiiiiiing—
It was clear and ringing.
At the same time, a bright light washed over the Players in continuous waves.
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